Five Goodbyes
by smilelikey0umeanit
Summary: A multi-chapter story in which Sandra says five goodbyes, one for each person she loves. Major tissue alert. Pure soppiness within.
1. Gerry

**A/N: This is told in reverse chronological order, just to confuse you (and me). Each chapter is told from a different character's perspective, so this chapter is from Gerry's point of view. Do enjoy and please feel free to review, it makes my day to get positive feedback. I haven't included Steve in this because I have no idea what they'd say to each other, I suspect it would just be a case of copious amounts of alcohol and a hug :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own New Tricks. **

She stretched out her legs to their full length, placing her feet over his thighs. They were concealed under her pair of bootcut jeans, but he knew that underneath, her legs were long and muscular. He looked down at her feet, eyeing her red painted nails, then raised his gaze back up to her face questioningly. She nodded slightly, returning her focus to the film but wearing a tiny smirk on her rosy lips. He took this as the green light to massage her feet, easing the tension from her muscles.

They were soft, her feet, yet elegant, with high arches and delicate blue veins just visible beneath her pale skin. They remained that way for a while, him drawing patterns on her feet with the pads of his thumbs, her grinning sarcastically at how bad the film was.

"Are you going to talk to me or what?" she asked, jabbing his thigh with her toe. This was to be the last time they would spend together for months, maybe years, and they were sat in silence watching _Paranormal Activity 3_. This wasn't how she'd envisioned it.

"What do you want to talk about?" he replied neutrally, flicking the focus back on to her. He'd let her choose everything about tonight, let her have it exactly how she wanted. _Shall we go out for dinner? __**No, let's stay in.**__ Your house or mine? __**Yours.**__ What shall we do? __**Watch a film?**__ What type? __**Horror.**__ What time do you want to come over? __**Seven?**__ That's fine. _

"I don't know, whatever you want," she deflected, winking. Ten years cooped up in an office with Gerry Standing every weekday had made her as childish as him.

He smiled sadly, looking down. Her face fell wearily. "Gerry, what is it?" She'd grown accustomed to this over the past few days. No one quite knew what to say to her.

"I don't know, it's just…" he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "ten years and its come down to this, I guess. This is it."

"Oh, Gerry, for heaven's sake, how many times do I have to tell you?" she said in exasperation, but rather than her usual shouting, her voice was gentle, like a bemused mother telling her child off for dipping their fingers in the icing for the cake. What she did next, however, was about as far from motherly as you could get.

She steadily removed her feet from where they rested on his thighs. At first he felt cold from the loss of contact, until he realised she had swapped to his end of the sofa and was about to sit in his lap. Automatically he moved to accommodate her, sliding his hand around her hip to steady her. He didn't give one millimetre of a damn that she felt quite heavy (or at least heavier than the only other person who had sat in his lap recently, Gerry Junior) and his knees felt like they were about to give out at any moment, he just held onto her like his life depended on it.

She turned her head so she was facing him directly, her bright blue eyes only inches from his. He prayed to whoever was listening that she couldn't feel his heart pounding wildly or the little shivers running through his body.

"Gerry, don't for one second think that I'm done with you, any of you, yet," she began firmly. She was so close he could feel her breath on his face, and he had to fight the urge to kiss her. "I know we've had our ups and downs but we've been through a lot, you and me, and you've been a good friend. The best, in fact. And I don't want to lose this." She smiled at him before burying her head in his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. He pressed a long kiss into her wonderfully soft hair, savouring the moment. She was right; they had been through a lot, but they were stronger for it. He recalled being held at gunpoint with her, terrified, holding her as she cried over Jack, heartbroken, celebrating with her when they caught Hanson.

His memories were interrupted by a loud scream from the television. Sandra lifted her head, chuckling. "I think that just about sums up our relationship, we can't have a minute's peace without someone screaming at us," He laughed heartily.

"Sounds about right, although it's normally you screaming," he pointed out, only to be swatted on the arm for his efforts. "I guess that's true," she admitted, draping her arms around his neck, "Listen, Gerry, whoever replaces me, don't give them hell, yeah? It's not fair on them, and you're all better than that."

"I know, Gov, we won't. Promise." She smiled contentedly. "But nobody can ever replace you. There's only one you, and you're going to be enjoying yourself every day, right?"

"Too bloody right, I deserve it after you lot driving me insane, running me ragged and generally stressing me out for ten years, it's a miracle I haven't gone grey!" she joked, moving to get up as he laughed again. _God, he was going to miss this._

She stood in front of him, blue meeting blue as their eyes locked, absorbing every detail of each other and locking the memory safely away so it would never be lost. "I'd better go," she whispered, "it's getting late. Early start tomorrow."

He briefly considered asking her to stay, but that would be selfish of him. She'd made it clear in the letters that she'd written to each of them that she was doing this for herself as much as them. Typical Sandra, the one to voice what they had all been thinking for some time now, albeit on paper so she could express her feelings better. She always had been perceptive of everyone else but crap at talking about herself. "Yeah," was all he could summon up.

His peripheral vision noticed her moving into the hallway, his ears heard her brush against the wall as she knelt down to put her shoes on, his nose smelt the heavy scent of her perfume on his shirt, but his body remained still, unable to move. If he moved, it would all be over. Ten years of friendship: laughing, joking, flirting, arguing.

The old Gerry, who still made an appearance in the back of his mind at times, would view it as wasted time _(she's bloody gorgeous, why did you never ask her out?) _but the new Gerry, the older, wiser Gerry-without-Sandra saw it as the best time of his life. He had three funny, intelligent, brilliant friends, four beautiful, successful daughters, three ex-wives who he'd managed to stay great friends with and a wonderful little ball of energy of a grandson. _How could he have ever seen that as wasted time?_

He stood up, moving into the hallway where she was stood patiently, waiting for him. She was wearing her long red coat with her black scarf and leather gloves. She looked perfect, except from the unshed tears filling her eyes.

"Sandra," was all he could think to say as he took the few steps towards her, encompassing her in his arms. She wrapped her arms around him, tight, for how long he had no idea. He knew that she hadn't wanted their goodbye to be emotional. He had pictured them all stood in a line at the airport, each taking turns to wish her a teary, choked-up goodbye. It hadn't been a pretty picture. No, he much preferred this, holding her in the warmth of his house.

She gently prised herself away, unsure of what to do next, what to say. Thankfully Gerry had thought of something to fill the silence.

"Sandra, I love-"

She put a finger to his lips to silence him. "I know." She whispered, stroking his lips with her fingertip, her touch featherlight. She removed her finger, only for it to be replaced by her warm, soft lips. They stood there for a while, breathing in tandem, their lips connected but not moving, enjoying the precious feeling of…whatever it was, it was good. Too good to last. For the second time, she pulled away from him, leaving him with the taste of her lips on his. By the time he came down from cloud nine enough to open his eyes, she was halfway out of his porch. He watched her walk away, memorising the familiar sway of her coat and the click of her heels. She turned around briefly as she stepped out onto the pavement in front of his house.

"Gerry?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget to give Brian a lift on Monday morning, will you?"

"I won't, Sandra. Promise. Scout's honour."

"Good boy, Gerald." She smiled and returned to the warmth of her car, her golden hair shining under the orange glow of the streetlights. He could have sworn he saw her brush a tear away before she drove into the darkness, but then again, his own vision was swimming in a hazy pool of warm water.

"Bye, Sandra."


	2. Grace

**A/N: Here we go with the next chapter, this time told from the perspectives of Sandra and Grace. Enjoy and please review if the mood takes you! :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own New Tricks but that doesn't stop it giving me feels.**

It was late evening as Sandra pulled up into the tarmac car park of Whitemead care home. The place, although quite a large building, had a sense of quiet about it that unnerved her slightly. She knew most of the residents would be in the communal living room at this hour, but she suspected her mother, never one for staying up late, would be asleep in her room. Or she hoped she would be. She hadn't come for an argument. The plan was to leave the envelope addressed to her mother on the dressing table in her room without actually having to speak to her. She hadn't wanted to give the letter to one of the staff for them to pass on though, she wanted to see her one last time.

Not being an overly optimistic person at the best of times, she had realised that when she eventually returned to London there was a good chance that Grace would have passed away. This was something she had thought about many times, her mother dying. How would she feel? If she was honest, she would feel like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Of course she would be upset, but they had never had any real mother-daughter connection. They were independent people, her and Grace, orbiting around each other but never actually meeting. The whole debacle about her dad had just fortified the wall that they'd been building between themselves for the last thirty years. Although it was probably closer to forty years now. God, she was getting old.

She walked through the double doors into the foyer of the building, immediately being hit with a gust of warm air and the smell of traditional food. It was a welcoming place and she knew Grace felt at home here, but she still felt uneasy. The phrase "God's waiting room" kept running through her mind. She approached the reception desk, smiling at the young girl on duty.

"Hi Gemma," she said quietly, writing her name in the sign-in book laying open on the wooden surface. "Is my mum downstairs or in her room?"

"In her room, she went up about forty minutes ago," the petite brunette smiled kindly. She was familiar with most of the staff here. They were a fairly small team but they were excellent at caring for the residents. By all accounts, it was a very rewarding job, but she certainly didn't envy them.

"Thanks," she replied, and headed up the carpeted stairs to her mother's room on the first floor. The home was accepting of the fact that many of the resident's relatives worked full time, so they had extended visiting hours, which had come in useful in this instance. She knocked as softly as possible on the door, presuming that she would be asleep if she came up forty minutes ago. There was no reply so she let herself in, thanking her stars that the door didn't creak. Grace was indeed asleep, eyes firmly closed, her silver hair shining in the faint moonlight filtering through the pale curtains. She looked peaceful, compared to how agitated she could get in Sandra's company.

The younger woman crept over to the other side of the room and neatly placed the envelope on the polished dressing table, between a jewellery stand and some bottles of perfume. She turned around to look at the restful face of her mother, taking in every detail. They looked alike; Sandra had inherited the bright blue eyes, straight nose and high cheekbones from Grace's side of the family. She tiptoed over and placed a feather light kiss on to her forehead, smiling at the irony that this was the only time they hadn't disagreed over something; when Grace was asleep and Sandra was leaving the country in two days' time.

"Bye Mum."

The next morning, Grace Pullman awoke to the winter sun streaming into her room. She sat up slowly, enjoying the slight warmth on her face. One of the jewels on her necklace was in the path of the sun, shining so brightly that it hurt her tired eyes to look at it. She moved her gaze away, and something caught her eye. Something different, that she was certain had not been there last night, positioned neatly between her jewellery and perfume. She steadily drew her long legs from the comfort of her bed on to the carpet and stood, being drawn over to the dressing table by her curiosity.

She picked up the white envelope, which was addressed to her in fine, gently slanted script. Who had left this? She hadn't heard anyone come in. Sliding open the envelope to reveal the folded paper inside, she realised that the handwriting belonged to her daughter. Now she thought about it, she was sure she could smell the heavy floral yet smoky scent of Sandra's perfume in the air. That police training must have paid off, she hadn't heard a thing. Or maybe she was just going deaf in her old age. Either way, Sandra had always had a sneaky side to her, like her father.

She opened out the folded paper and began to read the letter in the sunlight from the window.

_Dear Mum, _

_I think we both know by now that we aren't very good at expressing our feelings to each other, so I've left you this to avoid an argument. I'll cut straight to the chase: I'm going away, abroad. I don't know for sure when I'll be back, it could be months, maybe even years, I'm not sure. Please understand that I did this for everyone, not just me. I've been running UCOS for ten years now, I've been in the police for twenty five years. It's getting to feel like I'm keeping Gerry, Brian and Steve in the job for my sake, and they feel like they're holding me back. Good things can't last forever, and I'm just happy that we've had a good run and found justice for so many families. I know you'll think I'm being selfish, and to some extent I am, but honestly, I think I deserve to be. Things haven't been easy over the past few years at work but especially between us, and I just want to see the beautiful things in the world instead of the bad for a change. I'm sorry for not being the daughter you wanted but it's too late to change that now. _

_Love, Sandra._

Grace Pullman rarely cried, but at that moment, she couldn't help but to shed a tear. So this was it. She knew, deep down, that she would be long gone before Sandra returned, but she wasn't angry at her. Instead, she was proud that her daughter had finally done something for herself. She was proud that she had stayed for so long- she'd inherited the commitment phobia from her father, but she'd found something she loved doing and stood by it, and her team. They may not have had the best of relationships, but she was proud of the daughter who she'd spent thirty years protecting, and she loved her. Although she could have just told her this without the sneaking about in the night.

**A/N: Thanks to the lovely and super-cool Gemma for the loan of her name and for getting me through this last six months on a diet of laughter and cheesy noughties songs. Also, how awesome was last night's episode?! Gerry singing Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick, Strickland in sports gear and that beautiful final scene. Just the looks on their faces. SO MANY FEELS. **


	3. Brian

_**A/N: I've challenged myself to finish this before September so it doesn't end up like Civilised Meals: sorry to anyone who is waiting for the next chapter to that. One day I will finish it. Anyway, back to this- this chapter is written about the relationship between Sandra and Brian, which I haven't really explored before. Apologies if it doesn't turn out well. Let me know what you think. **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own New Tricks.**_

The clock in the bottom-right corner of his laptop flicked from 16:59 to 17:00. Five 'o'clock. Home time. He'd never been a nine-to-five kind of bloke, well, maybe in the old days, but certainly never at UCOS. He looked up, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes, tired from the strain of looking at a computer screen for hours.

"Right, guys. Home time." Sandra's voice flooded into the main office from where she was stood pulling her coat on, looking around her office for the last time. Strangely, she didn't look upset, she looked...happy. It was almost completely empty, except for her desk, the chairs and the plant in the corner.

If it was up to him, he'd have stayed an extra couple of hours to finish writing the report on the Harriet Watson case and finishing his share of the paperwork. However, it wasn't up to him. Sandra had asked at lunch if he'd like a lift home, even though his bike was propped up in its usual position behind his desk. There was something in her tone that suggested it wasn't a request, so he'd agreed. Since she'd told them she was leaving, she hadn't been acting differently, in fact, she'd just been…the same.

She probably thought she owed it to them, to make her departure as planned as possible, after what Jack had done to them. She hadn't wanted to go for drinks though, probably to spare him watching them all get drunk and over-emotional. He silently thanked her for that. She smiled at him reassuringly as he caught her eye in the companionable silence of the lift that would take them to the reception area.

After what seemed like forever, they reached her silver convertible. She opened the boot and lowered the back seats so he could fit his bike in.

"Sandra, you don't have to give me a lift, y'know, it's a pain in the arse trying to fit me bike in here," he protested, lifting his bike carefully.

"Brian, I offered, didn't I?" she said, taking the bike off him and practically throwing it in the car. "There, look, its fine. Get in." She slammed the boot shut and moved around to the driver's side, climbing in and firing up the engine. He sat next to her, glad of the warmth her car offered in contrast to the bitterly cold winter air that had hit him as he rode to work this morning.

She pulled out of the car park, joining a long line of traffic stood still on the main road.

"One advantage of riding a bike in London- you move faster than most of the cars," he smiled, simultaneously wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible and ask her to stay.

"True, but you freeze your bollocks off in the process," she cracked, smirking.

"Aye, that is a downside." The companionable silence returned, although this time he could tell that she wanted to get something off her chest.

"Brian?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't go back on the drink, okay? For me. I don't want to come back and find out you're in rehab again and Esther's left you and Mark won't talk to you, because I won't be happy, okay?" She looked at him, her blue eyes piercing straight through him.

"I won't, Sandra. Promise." He swore to her sincerely, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

"Good." She placed her hand on top of his, before the moment passed and she moved her hand back to rest on the gear stick.

"I might get you home before midnight, if we're lucky," she smiled, craning her neck to see the extent of the traffic jam. "I hope Esther hasn't put your tea in yet."

"I rang her earlier to let her know I'd probably be stuck in traffic,"

She chuckled. "And that, Brian, is why you are such a good detective- organisation is the key."

"Certainly is."

She took off the handbrake and they moved a grand total of twenty metres before stopping again. "Pass me my handbag," she asked, and he handed it to her. She rooted around it (_how did she ever find anything in there?_) and pulled out a small gift bag. "This is for Esther. I won't be needing it any more. It might get nicked."

"What is it?" he asked, curious.

"One of my necklaces that she said she liked. I think it'll suit her."

"Thanks, Sandra. She'll love it."

They spent the rest of the journey talking about the weather, the case they'd just solved, what he'd bought Esther for her birthday. Eventually they pulled up outside his house, and she got out to help him get his bike from the boot.

"Well, Brian, this is it, I suppose." She said with a half-smile. Bittersweet, that's what this was.

"I suppose it is." He replied. They looked at each other for a moment. "Come here," he held his arms out for her and she chuckled, holding him tightly.

"It's not going to be the same without you, Sandra. Best guvnor I've ever had." He said quietly.

She pulled away to look him in the eye, beaming. "Thank you. You're the best crazy, obsessive and downright strange old man I've ever had the pleasure to work with."

They laughed together, before she turned serious. "I'll be back, though, I promise. Remember what I said, yeah?"

He nodded, letting her go.

"Bye Sandra."

"Bye Brian."

She smiled at him one last time, got into her car, waved at Esther and drove away, blending into the London traffic. He watched her go until he couldn't see her car anymore, then walked into the arms of his waiting wife.

"What did she say?" Esther asked softly, looking at her husband with concern.

"Stuff." He said. "She gave me this, for you," he held out the gift bag. She opened it to reveal the necklace of Sandra's that she'd loved ever since she'd seen her wearing it a few years ago.

"Oh, it's beautiful, but why has she given it to me? It must have been so expensive," she asked.

"She said it'd probably get nicked abroad, you know what those pickpockets are like."

"I suppose," Esther said, although she still felt uneasy about it.

"Come here, let me put it on," Brian carefully took the necklace, unclasped it and placed it delicately around his wife's neck, the silver and blue topaz pendant resting on her chest. "There, it looks lovely. Suits you."

"Yes, it does," she smiled at her reflection in the mirror hanging in front of them in the hallway. "You'll be alright without her, you know. You're still a team, you, Gerry and Steve. You'll manage."

"I know we will, love. I know."


	4. Jack

_**A/N: My mission to finish this before September continues. **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own New Tricks. Sad face. **_

Sandra shivered slightly as she pulled up outside Jack's house, but it wasn't the cool winter air that was affecting her. It was the worry of what she would find in a place that, for her, had once symbolised a safe harbour, the lighthouse in the stormy sea. She pulled up under the glow of a streetlight, her silver car illuminated in the stark orange light. It was only eight in the evening, according to the clock on the dashboard, but it was already dark. She cursed herself for not coming earlier, in daylight, so she could have at least pretended that he would still be sitting in his favourite armchair, opposite Mary's chair, waiting for her with a cup of tea or a glass of wine. She could have even just written him a letter, the sort that you write then tuck away in a box in the attic, never to be posted. Anyway, she couldn't post it if she wanted to. She had no idea where he was.

Turning off the engine, she took her first look at the house. The garden was overgrown, a mass of tangled grass and flowers, but apart from that, everything looked normal. She really should have come earlier, perhaps with Gerry and Brian, to tidy the garden, but they rarely spoke of him. It had been six months now, since he left, and requested the house should remain unsold until his death, when his ashes would be interred with Mary's in the small churchyard where they had married. She wondered for the thousandth time that night why she had decided to come here, but the rational part of her mind told her that she couldn't be closer to him anywhere else.

She got out of her convertible, pulling her red winter coat closer to her body as she was hit with the icy blast of air that she had never quite gotten used to, despite living in London all her life. Still, she wouldn't have to put up with it much longer. Her imminent departure would take her to much sunnier climes. She made her way up the path that led to the back garden, pushing the iced-up gate open with her shoulder.

To her surprise, the lights surrounding Mary's plaque were still lit, even though the surrounding grass was covered with glittering frost. There were tiny icicles hanging from the trees, and everything was quiet, except for a little brown bird hopping across the lawn. It looked beautiful. She carefully made her way around to the bench, not wanting to disturb the scene. She reached down to the plaque, gently brushing away the frost with her gloved hands so Mary's name became visible.

She cleared the bench of frost and ice and sat down. The cold emanating from the surface would become painful, but she didn't mind. She knew now that she had done the right thing by coming here.

"Jack, Mary, I know you aren't here but you're probably listening, wherever you are," she opened softly, almost whispering into the night. "You know that I'm going, you always seemed to know what I was going to do before I even did it."

"I suppose I just want to have your blessing, really. To be honest, I thought I'd feel lost, at work, without you, but I don't. At work, I know what I'm doing, but at home, I have no idea. That's why I'm going, because I have no idea what I'm going to do when you die and Gerry looks to me for strength and Brian falls off the wagon again and Esther leaves him and Steve is left to support us all and I have to listen to the Commissioner going on for half an hour at your funeral." She took a deep breath. Her voice had steadily been rising throughout that, and she was aware of a light switching on behind her. Probably the neighbours wondering who the lunatic sat in next door's garden in the middle of winter yelling to herself was.

Truth be told, it felt good to tell him that. She'd felt unsatisfied with their friendship, how dare he spend all that time with her, mentoring her, nurturing her, laughing with her, only to disappear? She'd told herself over and over again that she was being greedy, some people had never had such a strong friendship as that, she was lucky to have known him for so long, but she just couldn't fully accept it. To be fair, though, she wasn't just going for her, she was doing it for Gerry, Brian and Steve as well.

"It's not just about you and me though, it's about the others. Gerry and Brian think they're keeping me in the job, and I feel like I'm just prolonging the inevitable. Good things don't last, you know that better than anyone. What we had at UCOS, as a team, it was brilliant, but it was…unsustainable. Eventually one of us would have had to leave, and you were the first. I'm glad, in a way. You were brave, for whatever reason. Thank you." She took another long, deep breath, watching her warmth meet with the cold of the atmosphere and make a cloud of water vapour or whatever the hell it was.

"You're probably wondering what Brian and Gerry are going to do when I'm gone. Well, I've left them both letters explaining why I'm going. I know, I know, but I can't express things like that through talking, I need to write it down." She shook her head. God, she really was going insane in her old age. "Anyway, Brian and Gerry are going to stay on at UCOS as far as I know. I'll tell them not to give whoever replaces me a hard time, it's not fair on them. Besides, there's still Steve. He's a good bloke, I think you'd like him. I suppose it'll be different for them, but they'll get used to it."

"And me, well, I'm going travelling. I've always wanted to see the world, but I've always been tied down by the job. I will come back, one day, I promise. I just need some time to myself." The cold was getting painful now, so she stood up, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "Who knows, maybe I'll finally find a decent man and settle down," she laughed. She could picture Jack chuckling at this.

"I should go, I'm bloody freezing. " She leant down to touch the plaque, brushing her fingers softly over the inscription. "I hope you're together, wherever you are. See you soon." She took one last look at the beautiful little garden and walked away into the night.


End file.
